6 Belief systems and religious
organisation

The most obvious trend in Yoruba religion is the decline of the traditional cults
in the face of Islam and Christianity. This process started early. By the start of
the l9th century, Islam had spread widely in areas under Oyo control, and in the
1840s Christianity arrived, brought by the Saro and the missions. The process accelerated
with the imposition of colonial rule, and by the 1952 census more than four-fifths
of the population of the Yoruba provinces were said to be either Christian or Muslim
(Peel, 1967: 294ˇ5).

Two main aspects of religion will be explored in this chapter: its role as a basis
for the formation of social groups, and its role as an ideology and guide to individual
action. It is in the first of these that the most obvious changes have taken place.
The majority of men and women in many Yoruba towns are now members of Christian or
Muslim egbe. At the level of the individual, however, traditional beliefs are more
tenacious. For many people, there is nothing inconsistent about combining traditional
rites at home with church or mosque attendance, though Christian and Muslim leaders
preach against it. The Ifa diviner or babalawo is still an important source of help
and advice, though he now shares his clientele with Muslim diviners and Christian
Aladura prophets. The dividing line between 'traditional' and Christian or Muslim
beliefs and practices is often difficult to draw.

In the process of diffusion in Yoruba society, Christianity and Islam have themselves
been modified. The new religions share organisational similarities with the old cults,
and Yoruba rites of passage have been adapted to fit the new beliefs. At the level
of doctrine, both Christianity and Islam emphasise elements which are also important
in traditional religion, and there are similarities in the ways in which members
of all three religious groups view the supernatural and their relations with it.

The Yoruba cosmos: Olorun and the orisa

Two problems commonly arise with general accounts of Yoruba religion. Firstly, they
often fail to indicate just how extensive are the variations from town to town. Some
idea of this can be gained from comparing the detailed accounts of specific communities,
such as Bascom's study of Ife, (1944), Morton-Williams' studies of Oyo and Egbado
(1964a,1967a), or Ogunba's study of Ijebu (1967). Secondly, some of the accounts,
particularly by theologians, tend to make Yoruba religious thought appear far more
systematic and coherent than it in fact is. Articulate informants like the babalawo
may be able to describe the system as it appears to them, though even here there
may be problems (Bascom, 1960: 405). But their accounts remain individual constructions
rather than generally accepted bodies of dogma. Most actors are concerned with a
body of folklore and ritual technique which will help them in everyday life, and
both may vary from place to place. A body of folklore like the Ifa verses (Bascom,
1969b) may present a number of apparently inconsistent versions of the Yoruba world-view.
It is not necessary to attempt to reconcile them, and there are obvious difficulties
in doing so.

The Yoruba cosmos contains Olorun or Olodumare, the supreme deity; the orisa or lesser
divinities; ancestral spirits, and a number of other categories of spiritual beings.
Man is made up of both corporeal and spiritual elements, the latter having a variety
of functions. These are related to Yoruba beliefs about destiny and reincarnation.
Fulfilment of one's destiny is achieved through avoiding the wrath of the orisa and
the attacks of witches and sorcerers. This is done with the help of the orisa and
the ancestors, and through piety, divination and sacrifice.

Olorun is to the Yoruba a rather distant figure, apparently playing little part in
the day-to-day affairs of men. Idowu uses the analogy of the Yoruba oba who is responsible
for the affairs of his kingdom, but who has little contact with his subjects, as
most of his dealings with them are through the orisa. He argues that the orisa are,
nevertheless, only the ministers of the deity, whose supremacy is clearly recognised.
He is the creator, the final arbiter of heavenly and worldly affairs, omniscient,
immortal and pure, and the source of all benefits to mankind (Idowu, 1962: 38-56).

The number of orisa worshipped by the Yoruba is very large, though they range in
importance from those worshipped by only a single descent group in a single town
to those whose cult is found throughout the area. Their nature and origins are varied.
Some are personifications of natural features, such as hills or rivers, or of natural
forces. Others are divinised heroes given cosmic attributes, such as Sango, the Oyo
divinity of thunder and, by tradition, an early Alafin.[1] The important divinities
lead hierarchies of minor ones with similar characteristics, symbols and functions.
The 'hard' orisa are led by Ogun, the divinity of iron, hunting and war, while the
benign 'white' orisa, particularly important to women, are led by Orisanla, the Yoruba
creator. The parallels between these hierarchies and the Yoruba political system
are obvious.

The major orisa in a Yoruba town have their shrines and priests with their distinctive
dress and insignia. Each orisa has its favourite sacrificial offerings, and its followers
observe a distinctive set of food taboos. The same basic symbolism often permeates
all aspects of ritual. The followers of Orisanla wear white cloth, and the usual
offerings are also white, such as boiled yams or snails cooked in shea butter. Each
cult has its own rituals, music, oral literature, dances and divination techniques.
To their followers, the orisa bring the benefits of health, wealth and children,
but they punish neglect, impiety and the breaking of taboos.

Before the spread of the world religions, there was a close relationship between
cult membership and descent (Bascom, 1944: 1ˇ8; 1969a: 77ˇ 8). A person normally
attended the rituals of the orisa which his own parents had followed, and contributed
to their cost, but would only be initiated into a cult if 'called', through dreams,
sickness, possession or divination. If a woman prayed to an orisa for a child and
her request was granted, the child would probably worship the orisa throughout its
life. In some areas, the father asked a diviner at birth which orisa his child should
follow.

Initiation into a cult involves lengthy training, and can be a period of intense
emotional crisis. The cults of some orisa, particularly the 'hot' or 'strong' ones,
involve spirit possession (Verger, 1963; Prince, 1964: 105-9). This usually affects
women, though the Sango cult is an exception. The Sango possession priest, or elegun,
is a man, but he is dressed in the clothes and hairstyle of a woman. During the Sango
festival, he dances in a trance state and gives displays of power. In Ogbomoso in
1971 these included fire-eating, apparently piercing the lips with an iron needle,
and turning leaves into cigarettes. During the initiation process, a lengthy torpor
is produced, during which behaviour patterns appropriate to the orisa are learned.
During the festivals, certain clues, like a particular type of drumming, are enough
to send the initiate into a trance state.

Orisa worship involves three types of ritual. Firstly, there are private individual
rites, carried out in the house, usually early in the morning. The worshipper greets
his orisa, and divines with a kola nut what the prospects are for the day (Awolalu,
1970). Secondly, there are the regular rituals at the orisa's shrine, and the cycle
of these is based on the four-day Yoruba week.[2] Thirdly, there are the annual festivals,
much more elaborate affairs involving a large proportion of the population of the
town as well as cult members from elsewhere.

The ruler plays an important unifying role in religious life in the town, and the
major festivals involve a procession to the palace to greet him and bestow on him
the blessing of the orisa. Rulers are expected to participate in the annual festivals
on behalf of their community, whatever their own religious beliefs. There are other
links between religious and political organisation. In Oyo, many of the chiefs are
also cult officials, and some of the most important cults have representatives in
the palace (MortonWilliams, 1964a). The Sango cult was important in the administration
of the provinces. It was controlled from the capital, and some of the ilari were
initiates who could threaten supernatural sanctions, as could the Alafin himself.
Elegun from other parts of the kingdom had to come to the capital for the final stages
of initiation and to collect their ritual paraphernalia (Westcott and MortonWilliams,1962).
Cult officials had to be called in when certain types of misfortune occurred. Sango
priests were responsible for purificatory rites when a house was struck by lightning,
and the victims had to pay heavy fees for their services. Albinos, hunchbacks, dwarfs
and pregnant women were sacred to Orisanla, and had to be buried by his priests,
while the clothes and bodies of smallpox victims were disposed of by the priests
of Sopona. In the early colonial period, the Sopona cult was banned by the British
when the cult members were suspected of spreading the disease deliberately.

Personality and the ancestors

Yoruba views of the world make an important distinction between orun or heaven on
the one hand, and aiye or the world on the other.[3] Orun contains Olorun, the orisa
and lesser spirits and ancestors, while aiye contains men, animals, sorcerers and
witches. Sorcerers and witches are sometimes referred to as omaraiye, 'children of
the world'. Mediating between orun and aiye are Orunmila, the orisa of divination,
and Esu, the Yoruba trickster. Ifa divination provides man with knowledge of the
supernatural, while Esu is responsible for carrying sacrifices to other divinities.
He is unpredictable and needs constant appeasement (cf. Westcott, 1962). Often Ifa
will simply prescribe an offering to Esu, but a portion of the sacrifice is still
set aside for him, even when the offering is to another orisa.

The orun/aiye distinction is important in understanding Yoruba concepts of life,
death, destiny, reincarnation and the soul. This is one of the most complex areas
of Yoruba thought, and generalisation is particularly difficult in view of differences
in terminology between areas (e.g. Bascom, 1960a). However a relatively consistent
picture does emerge.

Firstly, Yoruba thought makes a distinction between the physical body (ara) and the
spiritual elements which inhabit it and give it life and individuality. The published
accounts differ about the number, names and characteristics of these spiritual elements,
but generally the two which appear as the most important are the 'breath', emi, and
the 'head', ori.[4]

Emi is generally thought of as the vital force, without which the body dies. In some
accounts it is also thought of as the conscious self. It not only provides locomotion
for the body, but can think independently of it, and can travel abroad on its own
in dreams (cf. Bascom, 1960: 401).

Ori is more complex. In some accounts, it, rather than emi, is the seat of the intellect.
It is also related to a person's destiny, as the element which predetermines his
success or failure in the world. The relationship between ara, emi and ori is illustrated
by an Ifa verse (Dos Santos, 1973; Abimbola, 1973) in which the body is moulded by
Orisanla, the emi is provided by Olorun, and the ori is provided by Ajala. Ajala
the potter is said to be a careless and corrupt orisa. Those who pay him get a good
ori and those who do not have to take their chance, as many of the ori in his store
are faulty. A man with a good ori is able to achieve success in the world, provided
he can ward off the dangers of witchcraft, sorcery and other attacks by pmparaiye.
Ori is thus given to, or chosen by, an individual before his birth, creating limits
within which success in the world can be expected, and within which the emi is able
to act.

In contrast to this rather fatalistic model, ori is also said to be the 'ancestral
guardian soul', a spiritual entity which can be influenced by man in his efforts
to improve his life on earth. In his account of Egbado, Morton-Williams describes
it as the 'indwelling spirit of the head, presiding over success or failure in day-today
affairs' (1967a: 222). A man should worship his own ori, together with those of his
children until they are adults. The ori is represented by a container made out of
cowrie shells. Inside are the smaller models of the ori of the children, which are
exchanged for larger ones when they marry. A similar model is implied by beliefs
in the existence of a spirit double in heaven. Bascom was told that each individual
has two ancestral guardians, one in his head, and one in heaven which is doing exactly
the same things as the individual himself is doing on earth (1960a: 406). With the
support of the ancestral guardian in heaven, a man will live out his allotted span
of life. It is at times necessary to make offerings to the heavenly ori which is
sometimes described as an orisa.

These varied conceptualisations of the spiritual components of the person have parallels
with those of other West African peoples, and represent similar attempts to deal
with the same underlying reality: the structure of the personality. In his discussion
of the Tallensi and Kalabari material, Horton (1961) draws a parallel between 'the
Freudian ideal of an Unconscious Self ˇ a purposive agency whose desires are unknown
to consciousness and are frequently in conflict with it', and the Tallensi notion
of destiny, which is 'a life course chosen by a part of the personality before birth,
a course both hidden from the post-natal consciousness and frequently opposed to
the latter's aims'. The Yoruba concept of ori in some accounts has rather similar
characteristics, though it is unclear whether an individual can confront and exorcise
an unsatisfactory destiny as is the case with the Tallensi and Kalabari.

Related to beliefs in emi and ori are beliefs in reincarnation. Many Yoruba are identified
through resemblance, dreams or divination as being reincarnations of particular ancestors,
and are given names such as Babatunde ('father returns') or Yetunde ('mother returns').
However, even after this 'reincarnation', these ancestors may still be invoked to
help their descendants. Bascom's informants in Meko told him that the emi remains
in heaven as the ancestral spirit, while the ancestral guardian soul is reborn, with
a new body, breath and destiny (1960a: 404-5). It also appears to be possible for
several individuals to be simultaneous reincarnations of the same ancestor, and in
some areas resemblance between members of the same descent group is explained in
this way (ibid: 404; cf. Idowu, 1962: 194ˇ5).

Also related to the orun/aiye distinction are beliefs in abiku spirits (Verger, 1968;
Morton-Williams, 1960a). An abiku may be born in a child on earth, but it soon leaves
for heaven again, and the child dies. The abiku spirits have their own egbe in heaven,
and when one of them leaves for earth, he promises to return quickly to his companions.
If a woman gives birth to a succession of children who die in infancy, it may be
divined that it is an abiku at work, and the next child is given special treatment.
Abiku children are given special names ˇ examples are Aiyedun, 'life is good', implying
that the child should stay to enjoy it, or Durosinmi, 'stay and bury me', implying
that the child should outlive its parents. The appearance of these children is often
neglected, and they might even be disfigured to make them less attractive to their
companions in heaven. It is normal to postpone the circumcision or scarification
of an abiku child until it appears likely that it will survive.

Finally, the orun/aiye distinction is relevant to Yoruba beliefs about death and
the ancestors. Death marks the transition to the afterlife, and much of the symbolism
of Yoruba burial ritual is that of a journey. The dead go to one of two orun, depending
on how they are judged by Olorun: orun rere, or 'good heaven', for the virtuous,
and orun apadi, 'potsherd heaven', for the wicked, where they are tormented and from
which they cannot be reborn (Idowu, 1962: 197ˇ201; Bascom, 1960a: 403ˇ4).

Death also involves a transformation of the personality of the dead person into an
ancestral spirit. The ancestors take an active interest in members of their descent
groups, and can give them advice through dreams and trances. Anyone can pray and
make offerings to a dead parent for spiritual protection, and the bale makes an annual
offering on behalf of the descent-group members, usually on the grave of its founder.
According to Abimbola (1973: 75), each adult who dies becomes an orisa to his own
family. These beliefs are related to the concept of ori. According to Bascom, these
annual sacrifices are made on the day on which the founder used to make offerings
to his own ori (1969a: 72); and according to Morton-Williams, an adult can make prayers
and offerings to the ancestors or the ori of a living parent for spiritual protection
(1967a: 223).

Representing the ancestors, but assuming a role which cuts across descent-group boundaries,
are the egungun masqueraders (Morton-Williams, 1956a; 1967a: 340ˇ7; Bascom, 1969a:
93-4; cf. Olajubu and Ojo, 1977). They are dressed from head to foot in elaborate
costumes, and their faces are obscured by nets through which they can see. There
are several types of egungun. The omo egungun, 'children of egungun' or 'junior egungun',
have costumes made out of brightly coloured strips of cloth and leather which swirl
out as their wearers dance round. The agba egungun, 'senior egungun', have costumes
made out of dirty rags and masses of clay with animal skulls and charms embedded
in them. Egungun masks are inherited within the descent group, and the agba masks
can only be worn by men who have learned the necessary rites to counteract their
power. The Egungun cult, like Oro, emphasises the separation between men and women.[5]
The masks are only worn by men, and apart from a woman official called the Iya Agan
and her deputies who help the men dress, women are not supposed to know the identity
of the wearers. It is dangerous for women to touch the masks, and some of the agba
egungun are believed to be able to identify witches, who in Yoruba culture are almost
always women.

Egungun appear in two contexts during funeral ceremonies. In some areas it is customary
for an egungun to emerge from the room of the dead man some time after the burial,
and to imitate him while he brings greetings from the dead to the other members of
the compound. Secondly, during the celebrations which follow the death of an elderly
person, the relatives may pay the members of the cult to come and dance for them.

The dual significance of the Egungun cult as a commemoration of individual ancestors
and as a representation of the collective dead acting on behalf of the community
as a whole comes out clearly in Morton-Williams' account of the festival in Egbado
(1956a). After the vigil with which the festival starts, there is a procession of
agba egungun together with the members of their descent group and drummers, demonstrating
the solidarity of the groups that own the masks. On subsequent days of the festival
there is less emphasis on kinship, and the other types of egungun join in.

Witcheraft, divination and healing

Even if a person has a 'good' destiny, there are still dangers to be avoided if he
is to achieve success in life. This is measured in terms of wealth, peace, prosperity,
longevity and children (Awolalu, 1970; Leighton et al., 1963: 35ff). Full happiness
only comes with the birth of children who will be responsible for one's burial.

While good relations have to be maintained with the orisa and the ancestors, the
greatest dangers probably lie in the activities of the witches. Witchcraft beliefs
are still almost universal among the Yoruba, despite the growth of education and
the spread of the world religions. They can easily be reconciled with Islamic or
Christian belief, and a major attraction of the Aladura churches is their explicit
attention to the problem. Witches in Yoruba belief are almost always women, and particularly
old women. Their powers pass from mother to daughter, but can also be given to non-relatives,
or even purchased. Yoruba magic on the other hand uses physical objects with known
properties to achieve its results, and either men or women can be sorcerers. The
Yoruba word for witch is aje, but normally euphemisms are used like awon iya wa,
'our mothers', or agbalagba, 'the elders'. The stereotypes held about witches by
the Yoruba are similar to those in many other parts of Africa: they are believed
to be active at night and to have an insatiable appetite for sex. They are supposedly
organised into egbe, initiation into which is thought to involve eating human flesh
(Prince, 1961).

A number of measures can be taken to deal with the power of witches. Firstly, there
are 'medicines' prescribed by a diviner. Secondly, there is membership of one of
the cults explicitly opposed to witches such as Oro, Egungun or, in south-western
Yorubaland, Gelede (Beier,1958). Thirdly, there is membership of the newer witchfinding
cults or the Aladura churches. The Babalola revival in the 1930s which led to the
rapid spread of Christianity in eastern Yorubaland also led to witch hunts in a number
of areas (Mitchell, 1970a: 193; cf. Omoyajowo,1971: 715). The Tigari cult spread
rapidly through Ghana, Dahomey and Togo into Egbado in 1951, before it was suppressed
by the government (Morton-Williams, 1956b). In this case, most of the witches identified
were old women. Witchcraft 'confessions' by old women are a common symptom of senile
dementia. In Ogbomoso children started to stone an old woman who was wandering about
outside our house claiming to have bewitched a number of people, and informants said
they had seen similar incidents before.

Nevertheless, open witchcraft accusations against specific individuals are infrequent
and people are more likely to take preventive action against witches in general,
through ritual, charms and amulets. Where accusations occur, they are likely to be
made against co-wives or wives of other men in the compound. These are clearly related
to the tensions arising from polygyny and the wife's subordination to more senior
wives in the husband's compound.

Though there are many systems of divination used by the Yoruba, the most important
is Ifa (Bascom,1941; 1969b; Morton-Williams, 1966). The babalawo undergoes a long
training, lasting several years. He divines either with sixteen palm nuts (ikin)
or with a divining chain (opele). The opele is much quicker to use, but considered
less reliable. If he is using palm nuts, the diviner passes them from one hand to
the other, leaving one or two behind. Depending on the result, he makes a single
or double mark in a tray of powder. He repeats the process eight times, leaving eight
sets of marks in the tray in two columns of four. Each of the marks may be single
or double, and there are 256 possible permutations or odu. The opele is made out
of eight seeds or cowries joined together on a chain so that, when the chain is cast
on the ground, each can fall face up or face down, corresponding to the single or
double marks.

Each of the odu has its own name, rank and ese or verses associated with it. The
diviners know at least four verses for each of the odu, and many more for the higher-ranking
ones, those in which the two columns of four marks are identical. The verses consist
of an assortment of folk tales, myths and historical narratives. They usually describe
why on a particular occasion If a was consulted, the advice it gave, the sacrifice
it prescribed, and a general moral. The verses are transmitted orally, and the diviner
is constantly learning new ones throughout his career.

Ifa consultations vary in length. The client need not tell the diviner the nature
of the problem, but may simply whisper it to a coin which is then placed in front
of the diviner. In short consultations the diviner simply casts the chain, recites
the ese of the odu which comes up, and leaves it to the client to make what he can
of them as regards his own problems. In other cases, the diviner may make the initial
cast, and then work through a long series of secondary questions, to find out whether
good or evil is in store for the client, what sort of good or evil it is, and what
he can do about it. If Ifa suggests a sacrifice, he can ask whether an offering to
Esu is sufficient, or whether one to another orisa is necessary. Finally, the ese
are recited. The logic of the method of answering questions is simple. Each of the
odu is ranked, and the possible answers are each represented by a different symbol.
A cast is made for each of the symbols, and the one which receives the highest-ranking
cast is the one selected (Bascom, 1969b). Many of the odu are associated with particular
orisa, or even with Islam, and this may give a clue to the solution of the client's
problem.

The criteria by which offerings to the orisa are chosen make an interesting subject
of study in themselves (Awolalu,1973; 1978). Each of the orisa has its own tastes
and taboos: the preference of Orisanla for white offerings and of Ogun for dogs are
obvious examples. Some offerings are chosen for their qualities: palm oil and the
liquid from snail shells are both associated with smoothness, peace and tranquillity.
Others are linked with the effects they are supposed to produce through verbal association
or myth (Verger, 1972). Most edible sacrifices are eaten by the worshippers themselves,
with a small portion being left for Esu, but sometimes If a may specify that the
whole offering is to be given to the orisa, and it will be burnt, buried, or exposed.

The objects chosen also depend on the importance of the occasion. The more urgent
the need for maintaining or restoring relations with the supernatural, the higher
the quality of the offering. Before the colonial period, the major communal sacrifices
in many towns involved human victims, including major annual festivals, offerings
at the start of a war, offerings to ward off a disaster, or on the foundation of
a new town. Human victims were also used in some Ogboni rituals (Morton-Williams,
1960b). For the public rites, sheep and cows have been substituted long since.

Yoruba magical techniques and rites prescribed by the babalawo shade off into Yoruba
medical practice, and the two are often combined (cf. Prince, 1960; 1964; Maclean,1971;
Leighton et al., 1963). The Yoruba word ogun refers to either magic or medicine,
and the babalawo is usually known for his medical skill as well as for his skill
in divination.

Government medical facilities are unevenly distributed in Yorubaland, and where they
are found they can have a dramatic effect on local mortality rates (Orubuloye and
Caldwell, 1976). Whereas many villages have dispensaries which can deal with minor
complaints, there are few hospitals outside the towns. In any case, queues in hospital
out-patient departments are often long, and illiterate patients cannot always be
sure that they will get the correct drugs from the dispenser at the end of the day,
even if they are prepared to bribe him. The first reaction of most people to their
own or their children's sickness is to try and do something about it themselves.
Older members of the compound usually know some herbal remedies which may work, and
for those who can afford them there is a lively trade in patent medicines and prescription
drugs in the markets. There are also a lot of quack remedies around. If these measures
fail, the patient will have to look elsewhere. In the rural areas, the usual alternative
is a babalawo or other expert. Even in the towns, traditional healers still have
a flourishing clientele, along with the Muslim diviners and the Aladura prophets.
The choice of healer often depends on the nature of the disease. While a patient
with a chest or stomach complaint is likely to be taken to the hospital, those suffering
>from barrenness, impotence or psychiatric complaints are more likely to be taken
to other healers. The treatment given by a healer may include both a herbal potion
with pharmaceutical properties to deal with the symptoms, and a sacrifice to appease
the orisa. Yoruba healers make use of an enormous variety of items, ranging from
plants and herbs to pieces of dried birds and animals. There are stalls selling these
exotic ingredients in most markets of any size. Verger has shown (1972) how many
of these items have names or attributes related verbally to the effects which they
are required to produce, and he suggests that the same is true of many of the spells
and incantations (ofo) which are used along with them. Buckland (1976) suggests that
underlying Yoruba medicinal practice, as well as other aspects of Yoruba belief,
is a paradigm derived from a theory of conception, bringing together the colours
red (menstrual blood) and white (sperm) within the black skin of the mother, and
he relates folk theories of diseases like leprosy, which lead to red or white patches
on the skin, and their treatments, to this paradigm.

In this abbreviated survey of traditional religion, a number of general characteristics
emerge which find parallels in the world religions as they have developed among the
Yoruba. Firstly, Yoruba religion deals largely with the problems of the individual
in this world. It is not concerned with a systematic and logically coherent set of
beliefs, but with ritual techniques which are believed to work. God is distant: ritual
centres on a variety of intermediaries, especially the orisa. Witchcraft and sorcery
are seen as major causes of suffering, but the diviners can provide information on
the nature of the problem and help on both the physical and spiritual levels, as
well as providing knowledge of the future.

Secondly, religion and the social structure are closely linked. The ancestor cult
is an extension of the kinship system, and the descent group is in some contexts
a religious congregation in which the elders have ritual authority. However, the
correlation between kinship and religious affiliation is not perfect, and cult groups
cross-cut descent groups. The oba as the symbol of the community is also involved
in the festivals of its major cults. How far these characteristics are also found
in the Yoruba versions of the world religions will be considered in the following
sections.

Changing religious affliation

At present the two world religions are approximately equal in their strength among
the Yoruba. Islam predominates in Ibadan and Oyo, but there is also a large Christian
minority. In Egba, Ijebu, Ife, and Igbomina the religions are more equally balanced,
while in Ondo, Ekiti, Ijesa and Kabba there are large Christian majorities.

The western areas where Islam is now strongest are those with which it had made contact
before 1800. In eastern kingdoms like Ondo, on the other hand, the missions arrived
before Islam had made much of an impression. When the missions started work in Ekiti,
there was already a nucleus of Christians who had been converted elsewhere. Ijebu
is unusual in that, during the 19th century, it remain aloof from both religions.
After 1892, conversion was rapid. One of the attractions of Christianity was the
mission monopoly of education, but the proximity of Lagos and Epe, both Muslim strongholds,
meant contact with Islam as well. Almost alone of Nigerian ethnic groups, the Ijebu
have succeeded in combining Islam with high rates of western education.

lslam

The history of Islam among the Yoruba probably goes back to the 17th century, when
it was introduced, probably from Nupe. Slaves passing into Oyo from the north included
Muslims, and a number of itinerant Muslim preachers were travelling in Yorubaland
in the late 18th and early l9th centuries: the most important of these was Mallam
Alimi. The Fulani coup in Ilorin created difficulties for Muslims in the other towns.
Many were killed and others fled to Ilorin for safety. Some of the towns with large
Muslim communities such as Oyo-Ile, Ikoyi and Igboho were destroyed, but Islam started
to revive with the foundation of the successor states and the reabsorption of many
of the refugees (Gbadamosi, 1978).

A number of Owu Muslims found their way to Abeokuta and they were joined there by
Muslim Saro. In Lagos, Islam was established in the early l9th century, and there
were a number of Muslim traders in the town. It was strengthened during the reign
of Kosoko: after his expulsion from Lagos, he founded an important Muslim settlement
at Epe in the east. The proportion of Muslims in Lagos itself rose from 17 per cent
in 1871 to 44 per cent in 1891, and the indigenous Lagosians have been predominantly
Muslim ever since.

In the interior, Muslims and Muslim sympathisers began to have more political influence.
Alafin Atiba had stayed at Ilorin himself and was well disposed to Muslims, and Iwo
had a Muslim oba by 1860. Towns like Iseyin, lwo, Epe, Ibadan and Abeokuta developed
reputations as centres of Islamic learning, and under the influence of itinerant
teachers a standard form of Islamic leadership started to develop (Gbadamosi, 1972;
1978). During the wars, the teachers were also in demand for their skill in preparing
amulets for protection in battle.

The expansion of Islam was most rapid in the period around the turn of the century.
With the end of the wars, the return of Muslims to other parts of Yorubaland helped
the religion to spread, even in the eastern areas where it had previously made little
impact. Resistance was strongest in Ekiti, and the most rapid progress was made in
Ijebu, partly thanks to the conversion of Seriki Kuku, the leading military chief
after the British invasion (Abdul, 1967: 27ˇ38).

The two religions differed in their attractions. Islam was better adapted to Yoruba
social structure because it permitted polygyny. Christianity had a monopoly of western
education. In 1894 there were 32 schools in Lagos, all run by the missions. Muslims
constituted 44 per cent of the Lagos population, but only 13 per cent of the schoolchildren.
Muslim antipathy to western education was widespread. School attendance left little
time for learning the Koran, and there was a (justified) fear that Muslim children
sent to mission schools might be converted. After 1896 the Lagos government founded
Muslim schools in Lagos, Epe, and Badagry, but the further development of Muslim
education had to wait another twenty years (Gbadamosi, 1967). The educational imbalance
between the two religions still remains.

Islamic life in the Yoruba town centres around prayer: the five daily prayers, the
weekly prayers in the Friday mosque, and the two great annual festivals. Some Yoruba
Muslims perform the daily prayers in private, but many pray at small mosques attached
to their own or to a neighbouring compound. These range from a simple concrete slab
covered with grass mats at the side of the house, to a separate building with a courtyard
and a supply of water for the congregation to wash.

Near the centre of most towns is the large central mosque where the Friday prayers
are held. This is often the largest building in the town and has often been financed
by migrants living abroad. In Igbeti in 1970 the Friday mosque was a small temporary
structure: the old mosque has been demolished to allow an extension of the market,
and the new mosque was only partly completed. Igboho had been more successful: there
had been rivalry for many years between two areas of the town, and by 1970 they had
both completed imposing mosques. Attendance at Friday prayers has political implications
and a dispute over other issues will often result in one group of Muslims withdrawing
to pray on its own. The prayers for the annual festivals at the end of the Ramadan
fast and at the climax of the pilgrimage season are held in a separate praying-ground,
usually a large open space outside the town.

In most towns, a standard hierarchy of Islamic officials has developed, headed by
the Imam of the Friday mosque, and his deputies, led by the Naibi. Other leading
Muslims may be given quasi-military titles like Balogun Imale (Balogun of the Muslims)
though these are often given on the basis of seniority rather than knowledge of Islam.
The appointment of a new Imam in the large towns can also become a political issue.
In some, there has been controversy over whether the title should remain within a
single descent group, or whether it should go to the most qualified candidate in
terms of learning (Gbadamosi, 1972). In the larger towns, there are Imams for each
quarter under the authority of the chief Imam.

Most towns have koranic schools, run by local scholars known as alufa or mallams.
Children attend these either before or instead of primary school, and the main instruction
consists of learning by heart passages of the Koran. Some of the students may later
carry on to learn Arabic, but most stop after the elementary training.

The income of the alufa comes from three main sources: gifts from the parents of
his koranic pupils, offerings made for prayers at rites of passage which he attends,
and income from divination and the preparation of charms and amulets. Islamic divination
among the Yoruba has many similarities with Ifa (Abdul, 1970). The alufa makes a
series of double or single marks in a tray of sand and then interprets them. Amulets
consist of appropriate passages of the Koran written out many times and wrapped in
cloth or leather. In other cases, the verses are written on a writing-board in ink,
which is then washed off and drunk by the client. The dividing line between Islamic
ritual and Yoruba magic may be narrow. In Ogbomoso I met a young alufa who had been
to secondary school in Ghana. He was preparing a charm to send to one of his clients,
a Ghanaian army officer. It consisted of an egg, covered in Arabic writing, and set
in black Yoruba soap in a calabash.

Even though an alufa's income is irregular, many are wealthy men. An important investment
for an alufa, or for any Muslim wanting to improve his standing in the Muslim community,
is the pilgrimage to Mecca. Influential men who can afford it may pay for their relatives
or political followers to go as well. The pilgrim gains the title of Alhafi and is
recognisable by his distinctive style of hat. Many Yoruba women also make the trip.
With the advent of charter flights in the 1950s and 1960s, the number of Nigerians
making the pilgrimage has steadily increased. In 1970ˇ1 it stood at around 40,000
annually.

Despite the apparent unity of the Muslim community during the Friday prayers and
the annual festivals, there are sectarian divisions. In Ijebu Ode, for instance,
neither the members of the Ahmadiyya movement nor the followers of a local prophet
attend the central mosque (Abdul,1967). The Ahmadiyya movement originated in India
in the l9th century, and has become well established along the West African coast
(Fisher, 1963). Though regarded as unorthodox by other Muslim groups, it has taken
a lead in the development of Muslim education and in raising the status of Muslim
women. There are similar divisions in Ibadan (Mitchell, 1970a: 263ˇ4; El-Masri, 1967:
254). As well as the central mosque at Oja Iba, there are two Friday mosques belonging
to the Ahmadiyya, a Friday mosque belonging to a local reformer, and the Tijaniyya
mosque in the Hausa quarter at Sabo which has a few Yoruba in its congregation.

The two main Islamic brotherhoods in Nigeria are the Qadiriyya and the Tijaniyya
(Fisher, 1963: 22ˇ3; Trimingham, 1959). The Qadiriyya is the longer established,
but the Tijanis have grown more rapidly in recent years. Tijani Muslims are rather
stricter in their attitude towards women. Yoruba women are generally extremely independent,
and few Yoruba Muslims seclude their wives: in the Hausa areas of Nigeria this is
extremely common. In Igbeti, the only secluded wives belonged to two Tijani alufa.
The most distinctive Tijani ritual is the dhikr in which the members of the brotherhood
sit around a white cloth in the mosque each Friday, chanting the name of Allah several
hundred times (Cohen, 1969: 10). In Igbeti the Tijanis celebrated Friday prayers
in their own neighbourhood mosque. The separation of the Hausa Tijanis in Ibadan
was due to complex political reasons, but normally the members of the order worship
in the central mosque along with the other Muslims. So do members of Muslim associations
like the Ansar-Ud-Din, though in Ibadan even the AUD has its own Friday mosque. It
was founded after a dispute with the rest of the Muslim community, and was kept going
after the dispute was solved because it was useful in fund-raising (Mitchell, 1970a:
263ˇ4).

Islam among the Yoruba has had little effect on the social structure. In inheritance,
it is Yoruba customary law rather than Islamic law which is followed, and the same
is true in other areas of law. While many descent groups are now almost entirely
Christian or Muslim, the rapid spread of the two religions has meant that often pairs
of full siblings belong to different religions, and yet they are able to live together
amicably. In public affairs, some care is taken to accommodate both religions. In
meetings, if the opening prayers are made by a Muslim, the closing prayers will be
made by a Christian. A Christian organising a funeral or a naming to which Muslims
are invited will often have the animals slaughtered by a Muslim. It is difficult
to predict how far religion will create a major cleavage in Yoruba society in the
future. In the towns where we worked, the groups had become virtually endogamous.
As residential units become smaller, it will probably become less common for people
of different religions to live together, at least in their home compounds, though
rented accommodation will remain heterogeneous. Egbe are now formed mainly along
religious lines, restricting friendship networks to members of the same religion.
On the other hand, schools cut across religious boundaries, and the growth of a literate
subsulture has tended to obscure religious differences. Given the Yoruba's instrumental
attitude to religion and their tolerance of religious pluralism and innovation, it
is not surprising that members of both religions are quite prepared to use the services
of other religious specialists when need arises: prominent alufa often have a number
of Christian clients.

Christianity

Yoruba Christians fall into three main groups. Firstly, there are the members of
the mission churches. The four oldest and largest denominations are the Anglicans,
represented by the Church Missionary Society (CMS), the Methodists, the American
Southern Baptists and the Catholics. Some smaller, mainly American, missions have
arrived more recently: the Jehovah's Witnesses are perhaps the most successful of
these. The Catholics are less numerous in the west of Nigeria than they are in the
east. Of the protestant missions, the Anglicans and Methodists are strongest in the
south and east of Yorubaland, while the Baptists are strongest to the north and west
(cf. Grimley and Robinson,1966).

In the early stages of mission work in the interior, the CMS relied mainly on Saro
clergy. However, in the 1880s they abandoned the policy of developing a self-governing
native pastorate, and British control was gradually consolidated (Ajayi,1965; Ayandele,
1966). Discontent at European paternalism was one of the factors leading to the foundation
of the African churches from 1891 onwards. The other major issue was polygyny to
which the missions were firmly opposed.

Despite the schisms, the mission churches held on to most of their members. They
had a status and respectability which the African churches initially lacked, and
they were in firm control of education. The African church movement was founded by
the laity: with few exceptions, the Saro clergy stayed loyal to the missions. It
is still broadly true that the educated elite belong to the main mission congregations.

The protestant missions had a broad agreement not to compete in each other's main
spheres of influence. This means that in most towns there is one church which is
by far the largest, and it usually belongs to one of the main protestant denominations.
Besides this, there are usually other, much smaller, congregations belonging to the
other missions, or to the African and Aladura churches. In Igbeti the largest congregation
belongs to the United Missionary Society. The smaller Baptist church was started
by former members of the UMS but now includes a number of Baptist migrants from Igboho
and Ogbomoso. The Igbeti CMS church is smaller still. It was founded by the previous
Onigbeti before his exile, and in 1970 its congregation consisted of a few of his
supporters, together with Anglican migrants from other towns. In both Ogbomoso and
Igboho, on the other hand, the great majority of Christians were Baptists, and there
were separate Baptist churches in different areas of the towns.

The first thing which strikes the outside observer of Yoruba Christianity is the
sheer amount of activity. The larger churches are crowded on Sundays, and the more
active church members attend prayer meetings, choir practices, Bible-study groups,
committee meetings, and rites of passage on other days as well. Many Yoruba Christian
families hold early-morning prayers in their compound. On Sundays, the timetable
includes the two main services, egbe meetings and Sunday School, which is attended
by both children and adults. Much of the ritual is familiar. The services and most
of the hymns are direct translations from the English, and the hymns are sung to
the same tunes. Yoruba music plays a much more important part in the African and
Aladura churches.

The fundamental unit of organisation within the church in this area is the egbe.
The number of egbe varies from church to church, and new members usually join the
one belonging to their own age-group. In the larger churches, some age-groups have
more than one egbe, and membership is based on level of education. The women have
their own associations. Egbe meet weekly, to raise funds, discuss church affairs,
and to settle disputes among the members. But their significance extends beyond the
church. Normally a person's closest friends are members of the same egbe, and much
of his leisure time is spent with them. The members attend each other's rites of
passage and celebrate Christmas and Easter together. The Muslims are increasingly
organised in a similar way.

The African church denominations evolved out of the main mission churches in a series
of schisms between 1890 and 1920 (Webster, 1964). The first schism was in fact in
the Baptist Church in 1888, resulting in the formation of the Ebenezer Baptist Church,
but this was reunited with the parent church in 1914. Permanent splits within the
CMS took place in 1891 with the formation of the United Native African Church, and
in 1901 with the formation of the African Church (Bethel). The split within the Methodist
Church came in 1917. There were also a number of schisms within the African denominations
themselves: by 1922 twenty-two separate African denominations had 33,000 members
between them.
Amalgamations followed, many of them the result of financial difficulties. By the
1940s, four large African denominations had emerged: the African Church, the United
Native African Church, the United African Methodist Church, and the West African
Evangelical Church.

The doctrines of the African churches are very similar to those of the protestant
missions. The innovations were in church leadership patterns and in attitudes to
polygyny (Webster, 1968). Their formation reflected the discontent of the laity at
the growing racialism and paternalism of the missions and the shabby treatment of
particular African ministers. The 1901 split, for instance, was sparked off by the
replacement of James Johnson as the minister of St Paul's (Breadfruit) against the
wishes of the congregation. In the event, Johnson remained loyal to the CMS, but
part of his congregation, led by J.K. Coker, formed its own church. Coker represented
the evangelical wing of the African church movement. After 1905 he became established
as a planter at Agege. The new churches had considerable success in evangelising
some of the more remote Yoruba areas where the missions were not yet established.
Coker's cocoa labourers spread the church to Ikirun and other towns, and he himself
toured the interior, preaching and encouraging cocoa cultivation (Webster, 1961;
Berry, 1975: 40ˇ53). His main rival for church leadership was Z.W. Thomas, who represented
a more conservative 'church' approach, based on consolidating the movement rather
than extending it (Webster,1964: 136-90).

The struggle for power between them led to a schism in 1907, but the removal of Thomas
from church leadership in 1921 allowed a reunion. Whereas Coker was a planter, Thomas
was the Deputy Registrar of the Lagos Supreme Court, and one of the few members of
the professional elite attracted into the movement. The struggle between them gives
a good insight into Yoruba church politics. The main protagonists were supported
by large followings, built up from among their employees, kin and friends by means
of their wealth. The church, in short, had become another arena in which the big
men in the community could display their wealth and influence, and gain prestige.

While the African churches developed out of discontent with European mission organisation,
the Aladura churches developed to meet some of the perceived needs of Yoruba Christians
which were not being met within the missions. The name Aladura itself is derived
from adura, prayer, and 'praying churches' is an apt description of these organisations.
The founders of the Aladura churches formed 'praying bands' within the mission churches,
and they only separated when their activities were seen as unorthodox by the mission
authorities.

The major difference lies in their approach to the problems of everyday life, as
seen by the members. Whereas the traditional cults and Islam were able to offer healing
techniques, protection against witches and knowledge of the future, mission Christianity
did not. The mission churches were seen as being more concerned with salvation in
the next world rather than solving their members' problems in this. The Aladura prophet,
on the other hand, by interpreting dreams and visions, performs a role similar to
that of the alufa and babalawo. Not surprisingly, most converts to the Aladura churches
come from the mission churches: Muslims seldom join (Peel, 1968a).

While the Aladura still regard the Bible as the ultimate source of spiritual authority,
and their basic theology and liturgy are close to those of the mission churches,
worship tends to be a more enthusiastic affair, especially during the healing sessions
which supplement the regular services. The key figure is the prophet, a charismatic
preacher and healer. A problem of the mission churches in the period when Christianity
was expanding most quickly was the shortage of trained staff. There is still little
contact between clergy and laity in some of the larger congregations. In the Aladura
churches, as in the African churches, the distinction between church and laity is
less sharp. The Cherubim and Seraphim churches, for instance, have an elaborate hierarchy
of patriarchs, prophets, evangelists and other officials, and it is open to anyone
to be promoted on the basis of his (or her) spiritual gifts (Omoyajowo, 1971: 590ˇ5).
Disgruntled would-be leaders may move away and found their own churches, and the
Aladura churches have experienced continual schisms since their original foundation.
But this growth through fission has meant that congregations remain small and that
contact between the prophet and the members is maintained.

Mitchell divides the Aladura churches into two broad groups: apostolic and spiritual
(1970a: 14). The largest of the apostolic churches is the Christ Apostolic, which
by 1958 had become the third-largest church in Western Nigeria. In general, the apostolic
churches are more tightly organised than their spiritual counterparts. The role of
pastor, as opposed to that of prophet, is more important, and worship is more restrained.
The Christ Apostolic Church itself bans polygyny and the use of all forms of medicine,
whether traditional or western. Like the mission churches, it has become involved
in education (Mitchell,1970b; Peel, 1968a).

The largest group of spiritual churches are the various offshoots of the Cherubim
and Seraphim movement (Omoyajowo, 1971). It is here that the tendency towards fragmentation
has been greatest. The Church of the Lord (Aladura) (Turner, 1967) also falls into
this category. The prophet is all-important in these churches. They are less opposed
to the use of medicine, and polygyny is allowed. The long-haired prophets of the
spiritual churches wearing colourful robes, the congregational processions through
the streets, and the 'Houses of Prayer' with their singing and dancing are among
the most distinctive features of present-day Yoruba religious life.

The origins of the three major Aladura denominations are similar. The church which
later became the Christ Apostolic developed from a prayer band which was formed after
an Ijebu girl had seen visions during the influenza epidemic in 1918. Its members
were influenced by a small American sect, the Faith Tabernacle, and this was the
name that the new church took. It separated from the CMS in 1922 over the questions
of faith-healing and infant baptism. In the 1920s its membership consisted largely
of educated migrants in clerical jobs in the larger towns, and it took an early interest
in education.

The church grew rapidly as a result of the Babalola revival of 1930ˇ2, which started
in Ilesa (Mitchell, 1970a: 143ˇ238). Babalola was the most important of a number
of itinerant preachers at work during this period. He was a road worker with the
government until a vision in 1928. He started preaching and joined forces with the
Faith Tabernacle. It was from a Tabernacle meeting at Ilesa that a spontaneous revival
developed which continued for two years, and which led to mass conversions in Ijesa,
Ekiti and Akoko. At first the movement was tolerated by the colonial authorities
and the mission churches, whose membership increased rapidly as a result. In 1932
official attitudes hardened. Babalola was arrested and imprisoned for making witchcraft
accusations. To gain greater legitimacy, the Faith Tabernacle formed a link with
the Apostolic Church in Britain and changed its name. The final break with the British
church, over the issue of the use of malaria prophylactics by the British missionaries,
came in 1939.

The Cherubim and Seraphim movement also developed out of a praying band within the
CMS, after a young girl, Abiodun Akinsowon, had seen visions in Lagos in 1925. Abiodun
and an itinerant prophet from Akoko, Moses Orimolade, were the founders of the band
which separated from the CMS in 1926. There was a rift between them in 1928, and
their two factions never came together again. Offshoots have proliferated ever since.
There are now well over 100 independent Cherubim and Seraphim churches, and the largest
of these, the direct descendant of Orimolade's faction, has over 400 congregations
of its own.

In the remote Ilaje areas of southern Ondo State, the Cherubim and Seraphim have
become the largest Christian denomination. An unusual feature here has been the development
of fifty or so utopian communities, the best-known of which is Aiyetoro (McClelland,
1966; cf. Barett,1977). This extraordinary community was founded by a group of persecuted
Aladura in 1947. Through its unique social organisation, it achieved a rapid degree
of modernisation, and operated a fishing fleet. The key to its success appeared to
lie in the communal organisation of labour, though this has since been abandoned.

The third major Aladura church is the Church of the Lord (Aladura) founded by J.O.
Oshitelu at Ogaere in Ijebu in 1930 (Turner, 1967). He was a CMS catechist, but was
dismissed in 1925, again over the issue of visions. In 1930ˇ1 he became involved
with Faith Tabernacle and with offshoots of the Babalola revival in Ibadan and Abeokuta.
He founded his own church in 1939. The Church of the Lord has spread rather more
slowly than the other two, but has well-established branches in Sierra Leone, Liberia
and Ghana.

The dividing line between spiritual and apostolic churches is not rigid, and there
are also broad differences between the older and younger congregations (Mitchell,
1970a: 306). In the more recently established apostolic congregations, forms of worship
are more emotional and they are less involved with educational work. Peel has pointed
to the extreme rationality of Christ Apostolic doctrine, with its ban on all medicine
and its reliance on faith and prayer alone. From Mitchell's data, it seems that the
younger apostolic congregations fit this description less well (Peel,1968a; Mitchell,
1970a: 327).

What then are the main points of similarity between Aladura practice and traditional
religion? Firstly, words are thought to have an inherent power of their own, and
the recitation of 'holy names' or passages from the psalms as magical formulae is
common. Some prophets prepare charms using written verses from the Bible in the same
way as the alufa uses the Koran. Secondly, there is the use of categories similar
to those of traditional beliefs in explaining misfortune. The emphasis given to combating
witchcraft is an obvious example. Aladura prophets also have a reputation for being
able to deal with abiku spirits (Mitchell, 1970a: 344), and the extensive use of
holy water and the exclusion of menstruating women from ritual are both reminiscent
of traditional practices.

The forms of service used by the Aladura are largely based on Anglican models (Turner,
1967: Vol. 2; Omoyajowo, 1971: 369ˇ72), but they have been supplemented by special
forms for founder's day services, the feasts of the archangels, and annual pilgrimages
to sacred hills. (Hill festivals are common in Yoruba traditional religion: the best-known
are the annual festivals in Ibadan and Abeokuta.) Generally, the Aladura have emphasised
ritual rather than a developed theology. Fasting and prayer to achieve visions and
holiness are more important than doctrinal disputes. All of them emphasise the importance
of spiritual power (agbara), and the role of the Holy Spirit. The importance of the
archangels in the Cherubim and Seraphim churches is especially interesting. Each
of them guards one of the gates of heaven, and is associated with one of the four
elements. Each has a clearly defined role in mediating between man and God, and their
feasts are among the most important church occasions (Omoyajowo, 1971: 426). The
parallels with the orisa are very striking.

Religion and society

One of the most striking features of Yoruba religion is its tolerance of pluralism.
This was already a feature of traditional religious organisation. The choice of cult
group was left largely to the individual, and the following of a particular orisa
cut across descent-group boundaries. Membership of the various denominations and
sects of the world religions has been dealt with with the same tolerance. The rapid
spread of Christianity and Islam means that young members of the same household often
belong to different world religions, while the older people alone keep the traditional
cults alive.

It may be that the cleavages between Christians and Muslims, and between members
of individual sects or denominations, are widening. This is predictable, given that
wives normally follow their husband's religion, and children follow that of their
parents. Christians and Muslims are becoming endogamous groups, a trend which is
reinforced by the importance of religious egbe in social life in many towns.

Nevertheless, Yoruba of all religions have much in common. There is a body of customary
law which all groups follow in matters of marriage, succession and inheritance. In
other ways, the world religions have themselves had to adapt to Yoruba social organisation,
and this produces other similarities and a degree of ritual and institutional convergence
in the world religions.

A good example of this is in the organisation of rites of passage. Naming or 'outdooring'
ceremonies, ikomojade, are the simplest of these. They take place early in the morning,
a week after the birth of the child. The main ritual element is a short Muslim or
Christian service, attended by the members of the compound and other friends and
relatives of the parents. This may take place in the room of the bale if it is large
enough, in a courtyard or in front of the house. In the Muslim case it is attended
only by men, and it is conducted by the Imam for the town or quarter, or one of his
deputies. Verses of the Koran are recited, and the Imam announces the Muslim name
of the child. A series of prayers follow: for the child itself the parents, relatives,
friends, or for anyone else. The person requesting the prayers places a sum of money
before the Imam, and he and his followers divide it between themselves after the
ceremony.

The Christian service is also very simple. Both men and women attend, and the local
minister or pastor officiates. It consists of a Bible-reading, the blessing and naming
of the child, prayers and a hymn.

In some cases, as with Muslim namings during the fast of Ramadan, the religious service
is all that happens. But usually food and drinks are provided for the guests and
these may be lavish. In the Muslim case, a goat of the same sex as the child is slaughtered
to mark the occasion. Part of the meat is reserved for the Imam and his followers,
and part is sent to senior relatives. But a well-to-do father of either religion
might decide to slaughter a cow, provide beer, palm wine and soft drinks for the
guests, and call in drummers. The food is prepared by the women in the compound.
If either of the parents is an egbe member, the whole egbe will be invited and will
receive special treatment, with a room, food and drinks reserved for them. The members
make a contribution towards the parents' expenses.

The egbe are also involved in wedding celebrations. A relatively uniform pattern
had developed in the towns where we worked. Formal invitations are circulated well
in advance, printed in English and Yoruba, and they provide a major item of trade
for the local printers. They set out in great detail the programme of events: entertainment
at the house of the bride, the religious ceremony, a reception at the house of the
groom, and possibly an all-night dance, with an imported band. A large proportion
of the marriages take place, one after the other, at Christmas, after the harvest
and when many salaried workers make their annual visits home. Members of the younger
egbe are involved in several marriages in succession, so they are arranged consecutively
where possible.

Many elements of traditional Yoruba marriage ritual (cf. Bascom, 1969a: 59ˇ64) have
survived, with the addition of the Christian or Muslim service, though each town,
and sometimes each compound, has its own variants. The festivities usually start
in the house of the bride, where the guests are distributed in rooms throughout the
compound according to age, sex and status, and are served with food and drink by
members of the bride's egbe. This is followed by a blend of old and new elements.
To give an Igbeti example, after the feasting the bride and her two closest friends
were driven to the church for a service, complete with ring and presentation of a
marriage certificate. A short reception at the church was followed by the traditional
procession with drummers to the husband's house, accompanied by relatives and egbe
members in their uniform (aso egbe). These processions usually take a roundabout
route, and it may be hours before they reach their destination, with frequent pauses
to greet relatives and dance en route. The celebrations had already started at the
groom's house, and they continued for several days. Two cows were slaughtered, and
drummers appeared each day, singing the praises of the guests and their descent groups,
and collecting money. The following day the bride returned to her own compound to
greet her parents in another procession, and there was an all-night dance at the
husband's house with a band brought in from Ilorin.

Islamic marriages among the Yoruba follow a similar pattern of feasting and involvement
of the egbe, though the bride usually leaves for her husband's house at night. The
difference lies in the religious service. Marriage in Islam is a secular contract,
requiring the presence of representatives from both compounds, not necessarily the
bridegroom or bride. Usually, the father of the girl invites the Imam and his followers
to the house, and the Imam satisfies himself that both parties agree to the match.
He then recites from the Koran and declares them man and wife. This is followed by
the usual round of prayers and contributions by those assembled. This rite, isoyigi,
is only performed for four wives at any one time. In some cases, the ritual is modified,
and the Imam insists on the presence of the couple so that he can deliver an address
on marriage.

A second way in which the world religions have been adapted to Yoruba society is
religious leadership, especially where the boundaries of religious groups and descent
groups coincide. In traditional Yoruba religion, the bale was usually responsible
for rituals in honour both of the ancestors and of the main orisa worshipped by the
descent group. The principle of seniority operates in the world religions as well.
Lay leadership in many congregations is based on age, wealth, seniority and a large
following of descentgroup members. The pattern of leadership means that a congregation
may divide into factions, reflecting other major disputes and cleavages in the community,
or it may break up completely, in a series of schisms.

Another common form of dispute reflects disagreement over the criteria for leadership.
In both Christianity and Islam, this can be based either on seniority within a descent
group, or on religious expertise. In northern Ghana, trouble arose in a Yoruba Baptist
Church when a group of literate evangelical Christians, supported by the junior egbe
in the church, came into conflict with a group of wealthy elders over church policy
(Eades, 1977). The evangelical group saw the main role of the church as the conversion
of other ethnic groups. The elders regarded it as a means of establishing their own
leadership in the migrant community. There are parallels with the struggles in the
African churches in the early part of the century. A similar conflict has developed
among Muslims over the selection of the Imam: should he be chosen on the basis of
scholarship alone, or should the office, like other Yoruba titles, become hereditary
in a single descent group (Gbadamosi, 1972)?

Given the importance of the elders in the large congregations in many towns, it is
not surprising that much innovation has taken place among smaller, more marginal
groups, such as groups of immigrants. In Ibadan, the first Aladura congregations
to be established were mainly in the immigrant areas: only more recently have they
spread to the indigenous quarters.

One result is that there is some correlation between church membership and social
status. The most influential men in a community are usually staunch members of either
the largest mission church or the central mosque. Oba Akinyele of Ibadan was unusual
in that he was both a member of the Christian establishment in the town and an Aladura
leader. In the same way, a generation before. Z.W. Thomas was unusual in that he
was an African church leader and a member of the Lagos elite. The African churches
have gradually acquired more of an 'establishment' image, but the Aladura churches
are still viewed with suspicion by many of the mission Christians. Certainly the
level of education among Aladura leaders is probably lower than that in the missions.
They also make extensive use of drumming and dancing, and accept many aspects of
the Yoruba worldview. But the Christ Apostolic Church in particular has tried hard
to improve its image through its involvement in education, and as the number of second
generation members of the Aladura churches grows, the stereotypes held by other Christians
will gradually be modified.

The status hierarchy within Islam is more complex. There are two routes to high status:
the first is through adopting a more distinctively 'Islamic' lifestyle, often based
on Hausa Islamic models. This may involve Tijani membership, the intensification
of ritual activity, knowledge of Arabic and the Koran, and the seclusion of women.
The second is through membership of the AUD, the Ahmadiyya or similar groups, the
encouragement of western education, the modernisation of ritual, and a more liberal
attitude to the role of women. It is members of these groups who have the most in
common with the Yoruba Christians.

But at the level of individual belief, how have the traditional Yoruba world-view
and those of the world religions been reconciled? For many this has been little problem.
Yoruba religion is instrumental in its emphasis. If imported elements appear to work,
they are retained. There is no coherent and systematic theology with which to measure
of reject them. Before the colonial period, the If a system had come to terms with
Islam, treating it rather like another orisa cult. If a remains a body of lore which
many Christians and Muslims still consult.

There are two main ways in which Yoruba belief and the world religions have interacted.
The first is syncretism ˇ the blending of the new beliefs with the old. There have
been syncretist religious movements among the Yorubaˇ reconciling the Bible with
Ifa, or fitting Christ into the Yoruba pantheon ˇ but these are of minor importance.
The second, and more usual, pattern is for those aspects of the world religions to
be emphasised which are most in line with traditional beliefs. Olorun becomes God
or Allah, while Esu can be identified with Satan. Christians can see witchcraft as
the work of the devil, and continue to accept its reality, while the archangels take
over the roles of the orisa as messengers of Olorun. The parallels extend to ritual.
Passages of the Bible or the Koran can be used instead of Yoruba incantations, while
Aladura prophecy and Islamic divination provide alternatives to Ifa. The Yoruba have
succeeded in adapting the world religions to meet their needs, while at the same
time retaining their own cultural identity to a remarkable extent. The traditional
cults may have lost their power, their adherents and much of their vitality, but
religious institutions and beliefs among the Yoruba still show many continuities
with the past.